


All those years they had fun

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Budding Love, Canon Compliant, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, High School, Teen Romance, sweethearts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22406458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: You remember us in high school? The quarterback and the cheer captain? We were insatiable…How Tom and Becky began going out, discovered each other and made love for the first time. Sweet awkward little babs.
Relationships: Becky Barnes/Tom Houston
Comments: 19
Kudos: 17





	All those years they had fun

**Author's Note:**

> This baby got way longer than I initially thought so like, I beg you to please leave comments or kudos if you’ve liked so I know you’ve enjoyed it!

Tom took a big breath in.

He was pressed for time, but he had rehearsed the words a million times at home and all throughout world history class this morning. Nothing could get in the way now, could it? He knew she could only pass this hall from calculus to English literature and he knew he had a few minutes to catch her before he had to go to workshop. One simple question, that was all. No need to fuss it over.

He forgot every rational thought his mind had ever come up with the moment Becky passed the corner. She noticed him at once and gave him a big smile as she approached him. She had been with a few of the girls but excused herself from them to speak to him, and Tom was the recipient of several heavy glances, various levels between kindly knowing and downright mistrustful and glaring. His hands started to fidget so he shoved them in the pockets of his varsity jacket.

"Hi, Tom," she said.

She was clutching her notebooks in front of her chest. So cute, so nice. A pretty smile, soft-looking shiny hair already tied neatly in her ponytails for cheerleading practice later. His heart pumped hard and he opened his mouth. What was he going to say again?

"Rebecca," he blurted out and her pretty lips quirked into tease. "Erm, Becky… Becky Barnes, I…"

The rush of the other students around him, yet none of them would help the mess of him. He breathed in and out, trying to think straight, which was downright impossible when she was looking at him, directly into his eyes.

"I was wondering if you, erm…" Slowly, one word at a time. Big fucking plan he had had but Becky Barnes had the magic of robbing him of every last brain cell in his poor head. She looked at him patiently. She never seemed to find his flustering annoying, no matter how much he thought so about himself. "… If you would help me with French homework later? After class?"

She saw right through him, of course. Tom was plenty adequate at French − just earlier that day, the teacher had noted that his accent was very good. The real question wasn’t to do with any homework and she knew that just as much as he did. He could only hope that her answer would pertain to what he was truly asking − nothing more than some time with her. She had not stopped smiling through the disaster of his attempt.

He thought she liked him. He hoped so, anyways, because he would be downright heartbroken for the rest of his life if she didn’t reciprocate. They had known each other for years, middle school and everything, but he had not registered just how pretty she was before. He had only known that she was super nice and laughed at his dumb jokes, but it seemed that this last year, high school had opened his eyes to how gorgeous and flawless Becky Barnes exactly was. Maybe the teachers had the right of it with their talks about hormones. Every time they talked, he could feel his heart expand and beat so fast he could win a race forever, though to what exactly it led, he didn’t know yet. He smiled.

"French homework," she repeated, smiling right back at him.

"Yeah! Yeah, I… I think I need your help. You’re so smart and the teacher likes you and…"

Everyone liked Becky, of course. How could they not? But Tom thought he liked her best of all.

"So, erm, if you’re okay with… I mean, we can go to the library or something or, or my place and…"

Where were his plans now of asking her so smoothly, so confidently she would be so impressed by him she could only say yes? The way she looked at him, the smile on her face, in her eyes, he wondered if maybe she didn’t like the fumbling mess of him even more.

"I would love to help you with French," she said eventually. "At the library."

The crowd was thinning out around them. He had somewhere to be, didn’t he? Somewhere other than talking to Becky Barnes, much less interesting in any case. He had forgotten where. Becky touched his arm and he forgot even more.

"Workshop’s that way," she said, pointing him to the hall opposite. "See you after class, Tom."

She leaned up and, on her tippy toes, kissed his cheek so close to his mouth he could feel the chapstick around the corner of it. He watched her skip away and held his face, dumbstruck even after she had passed the corner and was out of sight. He arrived late to workshop class.

The library was packed but Tom had managed to snatch a good table near the windows in a quiet nook away from the main hall and he let himself be explained conjugations he already knew fairly well for the sake of Becky's lovely voice and her pretty thin fingers tracing words on paper.

"... so the _passé simple_ is only used in written form, but the _passé composé_ is what you want to use for oral..."

She stopped abruptly and looked down at her notes. Was that a blush across her cheeks or was he just too hopeful?

"Here's the irregular verbs we're supposed to learn for next week," she said and handed him a sheet.

Her knee brushed against his when she leaned towards him to give him the paper. At first he thought it was an accident and it might have been one but Becky kept it there, soon her whole calf brushing lightly against his. His heart was caught unaware and started a jig Tom could neither control nor stop.

"And there's this page of exercises that are due tomor..."

"Sam's having a party at his place this weekend," Tom cut her abruptly. "For Halloween. His parents are out of town."

She stopped, dropped the book and the pretense. The tip of her foot played with his as she stared with a knowing smile.

"He's invited the team."

Becky put away everything French. She leaned on an elbow to watch the awkward stumble of his through it all.

"Yes," she said, "The cheerleaders too."

Tom nodded. His fingers tapped the edge of the table nervously.

"Did you… I mean, were you thinking of going, or…"

She stopped his fingers, her hand covering his. He wanted to hold it so bad, clasp their palms together, never let it go.

"Do you wanna go with me?" She asked.

Tom let out a relieved breath and smiled.

"Yeah," he said. "I’d love that."

They looked at each other without a word for a moment, then away, but Becky’s hand stayed on his for a very long time after that.

Becky’s parents, by some miracle, allowed her to go to the party with the promise that she would be back home early and that she would neither drink, smoke nor kiss boys. She let Tom know the instructions with a glint in her eyes he could not quite make out.

"How would they even know?" He asked, frowning.

They were waiting in front of her house for one of the cheerleaders who had offered to pick them up, sitting next to each other on the stone fence of her front yard.

"They’d smell the alcohol or the smoke on me, I think."

His hands were gripping his knees tightly. Becky was dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, the scarlet of the cloak matching so pretty with her hair. She was like a hot little fire and Tom was afraid to look at her for too long, though he kept throwing her short glances in case he would forget just how hot she was.

"But if you kissed a boy?"

She waited until he looked her way to reply with a coy smile.

"Then they’d never know, would they?"

Her friend’s car pulled up in front of them. He knew her a little, he supposed, the cheerleaders sharing the field with the football team most weeks for practice but he would be lying if he claimed he ever noticed any of the others when Becky was at practice. And when she wasn’t, then, he had no reason to look at the girls’ side of the field anyways.

"Aww, Becca, you look so cute," the girl squealed. She turned to Tom and her face fell flat. "Tom. Hey."

"Hey," he tried to smile. "Thanks for the ride!"

"Yeah, sure."

He sat on the back seat, Becky at the front with her friend. The girls chatted together the whole drive about this and that, entirely ignoring him, for which Tom was grateful. Even more grateful for all the glances Becky paid him during the ride, a smile at the corner of her mouth. He clenched his fist, remembered the feel of her hand against it and unclenched it.

"Heyyyy," Sam greeted him with a big smile and slapped his back several times heavily. "Tommy, football guy! You look great, man!"

Tom palmed his shoulder pads and smiled back.

"Thanks."

"Booze’s over there, there’s pot, make yourselves at home, ma dudes."

Tom and Becky glanced at each other. The music was near deafening already and the smell of beer was making him a little dizzy. Becky gripped his hand.

"I’ll get us drinks," she said. "Coke is fine?"

He sighed out in relief. He had not wanted to drink and he had assumed she would not either, not with her parents guarding her, but hearing it from her was still nice. He did not want her to think him uncool.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I’ll come with you."

Becky was much more at ease than him, greeting everybody when they passed through the house as if she knew every person in their school. They were the same age, just fifteen, but she seemed to blend in with the older students like she belonged with every crowd. He admired that about her. In the thrill of going with Becky to the party, he had somehow forgotten about the party itself in his focus on Becky. Tom wasn’t particularly unfriendly, but he was not all that sociable either and he didn’t mingle as smoothly with that many people as her. In the kitchen, Becky shoved a red cup of coke in his hand and grabbed his arm.

"Let’s go outside," she said. "Take some fresh air."

Fall in Michigan, fresh sounded just about the last thing they needed but Tom might have gone to the moon and back if Becky had suggested it. There were a few people smoking on the back porch, which made Becky frown at the smell and they ventured a bit farther into the backyard to sit on a bench there.

"This is so nice," she said excitedly.

Tom was considering whether he should risk to lean his arm on the back of her side of the bench, but eventually decided against it just now. He smiled at her.

"Even if we’re not inside?"

"Especially if we’re not inside," she retorted and took a sip of her cup.

They chatted about anything and everything for a long while. He had been tense at first, scared to say the wrong thing, to miss his chance for good, but Becky made excellent conversation. When they talked, he felt like she listened to him, truly listened to him, not just his clumsy words but the truth behind them. He was getting more relaxed the longer they sat out here until he noticed a shiver run down her body.

"Ah, shit," he said. "You’re totally cold, did you wanna go back inside?"

Becky bit her lip, as if she had been trying to hide being cold at all, and shook her head.

"No, no, it’s totally fine…"

Her little red cloak was too thin, he thought, and the little hood did nothing to warm her up either.

"Shit, I should have taken my jacket, I didn’t think I’d need it. I'll go check inside if…"

But she smiled at him and stopped him from getting up with a hand at his arm.

"It’s fine, Tom," she said. She pulled his arm to her and, wrapping it around her shoulders, tucked herself into his side. "You don’t need to go anywhere."

He marveled at the feel of her against him, her cold little body pressing flush into his. She sighed in contentment.

"How’re you so hot?"

He was taken by a cough at her words. As if she, out of the both of them, had the right to ask this. He chugged down the rest of his coke to pass it down.

"Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t wanna go back to the party?"

She nodded, which made her hood fall back. Shiny red hair in the dark of night, bright with the moon.

"I didn’t really come here for the party," she muttered against his shoulder. "Did you?"

He chuckled nervously. His arm was snug around her and she was toying with his fingers.

"I’ve never been to a party before," he said. "I don’t think it’s really my thing, though."

She smiled, squeezing the hand.

"Really, not your thing, Tom Houston? Drinking and dancing and socializing?"

"I can socialize!" He retorted, tapping her hand back. "Just… not with a hundred people in a cramped house."

Her smile turned to teasing.

"And dance?"

He laughed.

"That’s a no."

"Aww, come on!"

She jumped to her feet − where was the cold now? − and offered her hands for him to take. Tom took them with some reluctance. He didn’t really want to make a fool of himself in front of her but, he supposed, if she directly asked for it, he couldn’t refuse her either.

"I can’t dance," he said. "At all."

The music inside was so loud they could easily hear it as well as if someone had put on the radio at a normal volume near them. Becky pulled his hands to her waist. They fit so well around there, as if they had been made for the touch of her. She was warmer than he had thought under her little cloak. Her arms reached up to hold his shoulders and he found himself wishing he had picked any other outfit, that he might feel the touch of her better than he did through his football gear.

"Just a slow dance," she begged. "Anyone can swirl into place super slow."

They did precisely that, which made him feel so silly, but when he looked at her he knew she thought exactly the same and they laughed at themselves. Tom narrowly avoided stepping on her feet, held her as close as he dared.

"How’s this, Tommy?"

He smiled. They were so close. He didn’t remember ever being so close to her and his heart was in a frenzy over it. He longed to touch her beautiful hair, pass his fingers through it. He longed for many other things, too.

"It’s actually kinda nice," he admitted.

She smiled back. Hands higher up his shoulders, to his neck, his hair, her fingers twirling it behind his ear. Could she feel his heartbeat drumming right under his skin?

"Yeah," she said. "It is."

The world seemed to slow down to a slur and he noted every fleeting detail, all gone far too soon but forever in his mind. The way her hands loosely closed around his face. How she raised herself as tall as she could on her tippy toes. Her eyes shining bright from the moonlight. The way her pretty lips parted, the tip of her tongue wetting it in anticipation, barely visible but he was so very close, wasn’t he? And, as she pressed herself closer, her boobs squishing into his chest, but he had hardly a moment to think about it when the much greater distraction came of Becky kissing him.

He had kissed girls before, thank god, so that he wasn’t a complete embarrassment to himself, but nothing and nobody could or would ever compare to Becky Barnes kissing him. The softest of lips against his, chapstick that tasted like berries, how she clung to him ever more as they kissed, her thin waist under his hands. Better yet, the smile when they parted and looked at each other. His heart was thumping hard and loud, perhaps louder than the music, but the whole world seemed to have fallen silent outside of his own head.

"Hey, Becky Barnes?" A voice called from the doorway and startled both of them.

Becky turned her head, but didn’t break from the embrace.

"Yeah?"

"Your parents here to pick you up," the guy said. "Right in front of the house. They're like, pissed, dude."

Becky groaned.

" _Fuck_ ," she let out, a rare curse coming from her. "I hate it when they do that…"

She looked back at him and bit her lip anxiously.

"I have to go…"

Tom was entirely dumbstruck, still too taken by the kiss to really register anything else happening since, but Becky stirring from his embrace was the cold call back to reality. She ran her hands down his arms to catch his hands again.

"We’ll see each other," she promised, "Monday at school."

She seemed to hesitate, but leaned up and kissed his cheek.

"See you, Tom."

She trotted away and Tom watched every step of her before she was gone entirely. He took a few minutes sitting on the bench again, staring up at the night sky, before getting his brain back and going home as well.

He wanted to text her, but didn’t find the words and was afraid to make himself look like an idiot. It wouldn't do good to make the wrong impression right after this. However, he realized he wasn't feeling all that anxious, all things considered, at least not over this. _She_ had kissed _him_. They had spent a whole long moment together and, not grown bored from him, she had _kissed_ him. But just because he had some proof that his crush was in fact well reciprocated didn’t mean he knew how to proceed from there, so he waited things out until Monday.

They kept looking at each other in French. Not many classes in common, but at practice after classes, the coach yelled at him a few times to get his head in the game. But how could Tom focus on football anymore when Becky, Becky who had kissed him, was on the other side of the field practicing the routine? In the locker room, the guys, who had all noticed, taunted and messed with him. It was all in good fun, though it became insufferable when one of them announced that Becky was waiting for him outside and the banter only got louder. Tom made quick way of changing and shoved his things haphazardly into his bag to rush out of the room among the first.

"Tom," she sighed out when she saw him, looking relieved. "You’re here."

He smiled.

"I’m here."

She took his arm and led him away, back to the field now empty where nobody would see them. She glanced back at the building cautiously but, finding that no one was looking, smiled with satisfaction and turned to him sat on the bleachers.

"I wanted to talk. To you."

He smiled at her. She sat very close next to him, so close their hands were touching on the edge of the bench, and Becky played with his fingers.

"Then let's talk, Becky Barnes."

She nodded. It was getting very dark and he was sure she must have a curfew, someone driving her home soon, but for the moment she was content to sit out here with him.

"I wanna go out with you," she blurted out after some long seconds of staring up at him. "I-I think you're nice and really sweet and we kissed and I wanna go out with you."

He took her hand in his, palms together, fingers together. He loved how he could clasp his over hers and cover it all, so small it was, and her skin was so soft.

"I want that too," he said, keeping it simple so that he would not mess it up by saying something awkward.

She huffed out in relief. Slowly, they leaned into each other and kissed. Their second kiss, again out under the moon. His heart was failing him, so hard it was beating. He could have sworn her eyes sparkled with something of a magic spell when he looked into them again.

"Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend?"

A teasing smile.

"Only if I can call you my boyfriend."

She leaned up and kissed him and Tom held her face, fingers in her hair, and kissed her. And then kissed her again.

He counted their kisses at first. One at the party, four today, another the next morning when they met up before school. Again at lunch, and two secretive kisses during their free period. He carried her bag for her, she combed some order into his hair. Their friends learned about them going out and Tom received many congratulations from the guys, along with some very crude comments he did not appreciate about Becky’s appearance that he had to cut short. They held hands around the school and Tom had never been more proud.

Their first day as boyfriend and girlfriend, their first three days, their first week. She gave him a Reese’s peanut butter cup to celebrate, which they shared and her kisses were all the sweeter for it. He had to stop keeping tally of them, not for lack of wanting but because, getting bolder, he was not sure what counted as just one anymore when they made out. Becky trapping him against her locker, kissing him numb till he forgot everything he had ever known in his life outside of the feel of her hands on his face and her lips against his.

He took her to a movie, some hard won money at the wood workshop every weekend finally put to better use than the usual video games or shirts. He’d have to start treating her now, cover her with all the gifts she could ask for.

"Where are we sitting?"

He looked down at the tickets.

"G7 and 8," he said and followed her to the right seats.

Becky held his hand on the armrest, which made eating and drinking very impractical for either of them but he wouldn’t change a thing about it. He pretended to look at the movie, but saw in the corner of his eye that she had turned her face to him. They looked at each other, faces bright with the light of the screen in the otherwise pitch dark room. He smiled. Becky smiled. They didn’t end up seeing a lot of the movie.

Making out was becoming an everywhere, everywhen priority. Before and after class, after practice under the bleachers for sake of secrecy, at the movies most of all, at his place, on every date, every day of the week. Becky was so pretty, so nice and soft, very smart and kind, everything a girlfriend should be. Tom tried as he might to make conversation, as did she, but inevitably being in each other’s presence led to shoving their tongues in each other’s mouth sooner rather than later. He was okay with that.

"I have to be back home in like twenty," she told him between kisses.

The curfew was ever strictly enforced and Tom did not want to risk robbing them of future opportunities just for the sake of over indulging just the once. Besides, twenty minutes was a lot of time to do precisely what they had been doing since she had crashed on his bed and pulled him to her as soon as they had arrived. At his place, the door could be closed. It was a miracle her parents had decided that visiting Tom was allowed, probably because they were assuming his parents were as keen on surveillance as they were themselves. Becky was doing very little to let the hands-off ways of the Houstons known to them.

Starting from sitting next to each other, the longer the afternoon had gone on, the more they had fallen into a bit more of a horizontal position and by now, Tom was nearly lying on top of her. Perhaps rushed by time, Becky removed all approximation from the arrangement and pulled him right over her to kiss him better. Tom was overwhelmed by the closeness of it, Becky’s small body under him, all the pretty parts he kept thinking about, yet a mystery but less than before and maybe some day not at all.

"I wish you could stay longer," he muttered.

She kissed him for forgiveness, for pleasure. One of her legs wrapped around his and the tip of her foot toyed with his calf. Tom groaned and kissed her deeper. He loved when she wrapped her arms around him. It made him feel like a superhero, the strongest guy in the world.

"I wish I could stay longer too…"

It felt so good to kiss her, if just that. Tom’s mind kept filling up with ideas for later, when he would dare, when Becky would want it. When they kissed, the ideas were clearer, sharper.

"Oh, fuck."

He backed from her, who gave him a curious look, pouting disappointedly.

"What is it?"

He was kneeling on the other side of the bed. His mind was too crowded now and he tried to calm himself down, but her skirt had ridden up her thighs a little and he could not think straight at all. Becky’s hand touched his. He felt a little bit quieter.

"It’s nothing, it’s just, erm…" He was certain that he was blushing as red as her hair and he whispered the next part. "I’m like, super hard right now and I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable…"

The blush spread to her like a sickness instantly and he noted with some horror − or was it delight? − her eyes glance down to his crotch. He fought the urge to cover it up. Becky bit her lip and looked up at him again. Her hand rubbed up and down his forearm.

"I’m not uncomfortable," she said. She smiled. "Not even a little bit."

She slowly coaxed him into another kiss. He held her waist as she pressed herself close to him again, though less excruciatingly tempting than before, no longer on top of her. Her hand touched his stomach and slid down a little.

"Can… Can I?"

His mouth dropped open and he couldn’t find words to answer her, so he simply nodded. She was hesitant but with a kiss to encourage, she touched him over his jeans. He felt his heartbeat about a million times louder than normal. She looked at him, but he didn’t know what to make of her gaze now. He smiled.

"That feels nice," he said.

She sighed in relief. It _was_ nice because it was Becky’s hand on him, no matter how loose the caress or how impeded by thick denim. Her fingers were trying to ascertain the shape and size of him, more discovering than really aiming for pleasure.

"I’m so scared your parents could just walk in," she whispered.

They wouldn’t, but he couldn’t blame her for the fear, especially when her own parents had a whole different idea of what level of privacy they allowed their child than his. He knew already that he would think of this moment all night anyways, under or over the jeans. The way she looked at him, beautiful blue eyes, the soft touch. He could imagine the feel of her fingers wrapped right around him just like they were there. He might imagine it many times more.

Twenty minutes were not enough, especially when a chunk of them had to be spent walking her home outside and far away from the comfort of his bedroom and the privacy of a closed door, no matter how scared she was that it wasn’t enough. He held her hand. She lived only a few streets over, but he didn’t have a car yet, next April only, so they could only make their cold way back to Becky’s on foot together.

"Did you wanna like, see a movie this weekend?" He asked once they passed the corner and he knew they would part much too soon. "Together?"

She gave him that same familiar smile, like she knew so much more than him. In fact, she did and Tom didn’t mind at all her enjoying the fact.

"Yes," she said at once. "Together."

"Great," he grinned.

He dared a quick kiss at the front door and walked back home so briskly he might have well have ran. He had a lot of emotions to process and he knew just how he would.

_that was really nice tom I’m sorry I had to go home :x_

He sighed in satisfaction and got rid of the tissue, staring at the text. He’d have to empty his own bin tomorrow morning before mom noticed it. In the meantime, he had all the freedom of his imagination, of Becky’s fingers so close to his dick in his memories forever. She thought it had been nice. Not gross or creepy or anything like that. He felt so relieved, so taken with how much he liked her. How good it had felt to be on top of her, her leg around him.

_thank you so much becky it was the best_

It wasn’t so much a proper reply to what she was saying and he wondered if she would find him silly but Becky had told him once she loved when he told her he liked spending time with her, which was why Tom made a point of letting it known. It was nothing but the truth. He thought, if he was any observer at all, that she liked spending time with him too.

Movies was just the same as ever, Tom spending all the money he earned at the shop into tickets and overpriced popcorn and drinks, but he thought he sensed in Becky a different excitement today. Maybe he was just projecting the thrill in his own heart onto her, he told himself, only to be proven wrong as soon as the lights went out and the movie started.

"Tom," Becky whispered hotly against his mouth.

They never saw the first scene of it, nor any of the rest. Drama and explosions and action lit up on the huge screen but all Tom could see was Becky wordlessly begging for kisses and there was nothing but her arms around his shoulders and her mouth on his. The armrest between them, the ever annoying obstacle to being as close to each other as could be. The room was only scattered with a few people here and there, matinée screening of a not-that-popular movie, but it might as well have been empty, outside of time and space for all he cared.

She took his hand in her small one, pulling it down under the edge of her thick sweater. He flattened it against her stomach, burning skin under his fingers, but felt Becky reach down and undo the button of her jeans. The zip pushed down and Tom’s heart exploded in his chest.

"Please, Tom," she said, her voice so very low, so seductive. "I want you to touch me."

Suddenly the room seemed to him crowded, all eyes on him, though he glanced around to make sure that nobody was, in fact, looking. Becky pulled down the sweater to cover his hand and Tom felt like an adventurer, reaching down between her legs to give her everything she wanted.

He checked in Becky’s shiny blue eyes for a sign of whether he was doing it right or messing it up, but found no clue at all either way. Down and down, curls of hair at his fingertips, he wondered if they were as red as the ones on her head. Finding what he searched for, he realized he had no damn idea what he was supposed to be doing. A knuckle of his fingers pressing in, feeling around, all the while Becky stared at him, smiled at him, brushed her hand through his hair. Was it supposed to be this tight? Was he doing something wrong? One finger pushing in and out, how hot she was down there, clamped around him snug and wet.

"That feels so nice, Tom" she said very softly.

He couldn’t tell if she was lying for the sake of his ego, but he found himself agreeing with her. All this time thinking about what it would feel like to touch her, but actually doing it was so much better than he had thought. He kissed her again, holding her by the waist. Becky took the other hand and slid it under the sweater too, pushing herself into his touch from everywhere. She pulled it up to her breast and Tom thought he might just combust into flames, every part of her so soft and nice under his hands. He grabbed her boob then und realizing he was being a little rough, tried to caress it more gently. It all felt so nice, all the kisses of her too. Two fingers in, each time sliding more easily than before. He was absolutely terrified of getting caught here, but he didn’t even know if he could stop if they were.

"I like you so much," she told him and kissed him and held him. "More than anything in the world."

"I like you so much too," he said. "Is this alright?"

She kissed him. Her hips were pushing lightly into his fingers every time he drove them in again. He slid his hand under her bra, skin against skin. Her breasts felt so nice in his palm, perfect shape, perfect size, perfect all. So soft, too. Becky slipped her hand between them to cup his dick through his jeans again and he was so hard he feared that the entire world could see it if they just glanced at him, but nothing that would get him to stop now.

"It’s amazing," she whispered back. "It’s perfect."

He didn’t think she came, although he wasn’t even sure what that would look like and asking would make him feel stupid. He touched her until they neared the end of the movie and they had to get back some semblance of dignity. If any of the other viewers had noticed a thing, they didn’t let it show. Tom held Becky’s hand and felt immeasurably naughty at the sensation of his fingers still damp from having touched her. Her cheeks were flushed and they couldn’t stop grinning at each other.

He thought about it all night. He seemed to always think of her. Dinner wolfed down at superhuman speeds, his plate shoved in the dishwasher before mom had even the time to ask him how the day went, and he was in his room, in his bed, and Becky was ever on his mind. How coyly she had smiled when her hand caught his to lead him to bliss. The feel of her boobs in the palm of his hand. Wet and warm under his fingers as the secrets of the universes opened to him − or at the very least of Becky Barnes. He groaned and spilled into his palm. A tissue to clean himself up but he was hard again with the memories of her. He texted her after the second jerk off, though his brain was no less fuzzy than before. Maybe this was just how his life would be now.

_I miss you already_

He read and re-read the four words, yet still felt like a complete idiot after having sent them. Becky texted back within the minute as she always did. How responsive she was only made him safer in his own eagerness.

_I had a really good time Tom ;)_

He sighed as he put down the phone, staring up at the ceiling, grinning. He liked her so much. It wasn’t just because he had just touched her boobs, he defended himself from his own thoughts. Becky was kind and she was clever, witty and so, so beautiful. There was nothing not to like about her. Also, he did like her boobs a whole fucking lot. A third time wouldn’t hurt.

He supposed that they were taking things slow, as much as fingering her in a public place counted as slow. Locker rooms had taught him that he was either far behind half of the team, or surrounded with liars. He could not say. Every step with Becky felt important, felt huge already and wherever that would lead could only be great. He wanted it all eventually, the whole Becky Barnes deal, but he didn't know if he was yet ready for it. Maybe he would just die on the spot any further they would go. He was very content to take everything at the exact pace that came to them, to let Becky set it for him instead.

He was allowed to spend New Year’s Eve at her place, though not in her room, not even with the door open. They were happy to sit on the couch together, so close their legs touched and they held hands, though nothing bolder for fear her dad would skin him alive. They smiled at each other when midnight stroke. He wanted to kiss her so bad, but as it wasn’t permitted, he took her smiles and the look in her beautiful blue eyes and he thought 99 might be his best year yet if this was the start of it.

"I wanna be with you till next year," he whispered, that her parents would not hear him from across the room. "And then every year after that, too."

She squeezed his hand very tight. Her head leaned against the back of the couch and she looked at him with so much softness he might drown in it.

"And then the next lifetime," she replied.

He loved spending time with her probably more than he ever had any other person. Nobody else was as interesting, as thrilling to be around as her. She was relentless, a constant tease but nothing he didn’t absolutely enjoy and hope for. His parents, for all it counted, loved Becky and said she was always welcome at home. Becky came as often as she was allowed, which was not nearly enough for his taste but still several times a week.

They were watching some TV show in his bedroom. Michigan winter obliged, they were tucked snug under blankets and the TV had been forgotten, kissing Becky Barnes till they were burning with how cozy they felt. Her face was pink and pretty and perfect.

"Tom," she whispered and played with the lobe of his ear − he loved it when she touched him, no matter where, no matter when.

"Yeah?"

Forehead against hers, feeling so close to her in a way that wasn’t all to do with the physical proximity.

"Does your door lock?"

He gulped, suddenly a bit nervous, but nodded.

"Yeah, it does."

Fingers at his neck, in his hair, tracing the shape of his jawline.

"Do you wanna lock it?" She asked. "Just for a bit."

He couldn’t push himself to his feet any faster to jam the lock closed. His parents were downstairs, but they never bothered them when Tom and Becky were in his room. He supposed it might be awkward if they somehow came knocking and found the door locked but that was a risk he was willing to take. He crashed back onto the bed next to her, taking the kisses she was offering.

"Thanks," she said in a very low voice again. She was always in equal parts very antsy about having to be secretive and yet incredibly bold in all their endeavors, so much bolder than him. "C’mere."

Immediately her hand on his dick over his sweatpants, rubbing him through it and making him rock hard in seconds. Tom was overwhelmed but all too glad to lose himself in Becky’s good care.

"Can I… I mean, can I touch you?"

"Yeah!" He realized he had nearly shouted, so eager he was, and went on in a hushed voice like she had. "Of course, you don’t need to ask."

"Yes, I do," she replied.

Her fingers numbly untied the knot at his waistband, loosened it, tugged the sweatpants down his thighs. She rubbed him through his boxers first and he didn’t know what to do with himself. Should he touch her? He didn’t want her to think he was taking her for granted, expecting her to give him handjobs on demand for nothing in return, but he didn’t want to distract her either. Becky looked so very focused and he saw the tip of her tongue pass through her lips.

"I’ve never done this before," she admitted.

"That’s okay. That’s super okay."

She huffed. Taking a big breath in, she tugged down his boxers.

"Oh, shit."

His heart had been drumming in excitement which suddenly turned to worry. It was short lived, however, as Becky wrapped her fingers around him, slowly stroking up and down. He was so hard already he didn’t know if he had enough brain power both to focus on Becky’s touch and to fret.

"What?" He asked dumbly. "What is it?"

They were both staring at her hand on him. He was trying to commit the sight and sensation to memory, fodder for many future nights. Becky was more tentative, took her time as opposed to the rush of him whenever he rubbed himself off, always with a purpose. Perhaps, he thought, Becky’s purpose was different, more leisurely, enjoying the moment more.

"It’s never gonna fit," she muttered eventually when he had started to think she would not answer.

He frowned, but the palm of her hand rubbed against the head of his dick in a very nice way to distract him and he muffled a groan, leaning back against the headboard.

"What are you talking about?" He said. "Your hand isn’t _that_ much smaller than mine, it fits just fine."

Becky snorted, which made him look at her. She gave him a teasing smile. Rubbing tight, picking up a pace. It all felt really really good and he had to stop himself from bucking up into the touch like a creep, so much he craved it.

"I didn’t mean my hand."

"What did you… Oh, shit."

If he wasn’t careful, it would all be enough much too soon and he didn’t want that for either of them. He grinded his teeth together. His hands were clutching the bedsheets but Becky’s free hand found his and entwined their fingers.

"One day," she said, promised. She paused, then started stroking him again. "For now, my hand fits just fine, right?"

"More than fine! It’s… It’s perfect."

She smiled and leaned up to kiss him softly. Tom was feeling so comfortable. With anybody else, he thought, it would have been weird and awkward to just sit there but Becky made him always feel at peace in her company. One day, then, they’d make love, have sex, fuck, whichever way to say it that wouldn’t have him bullied if he said it out loud. He was content to wait till that day came.

"Is this alright?" She asked. "How is it that you do it?"

"Huh? Like, erm, like any other guy? I don’t know…"

She pulled his hand to his crotch next to hers.

"I don’t care about any other guy," she said. "Can you show me?"

She wrapped his fingers around his dick, removing her own hand to flatten her hand on his stomach, tapping expectantly. This was putting Tom even more at the center of attention than he was used and he suddenly felt a hint of embarrassment. Becky was staring at him, though, and her pretty eyes soothed him down again. He looked down at her lips, his mind swirling with a thousand thoughts, and he touched himself. The way she looked at it, how fascinated she seemed, and how applied she was when she took over again.

"Like this?"

He kissed her and tucked his face into her neck when he couldn’t keep kissing her, wrapping his arm around her to hold her flush against him.

"Yeah," he muttered into her ear. "Except it’s so much better because it’s you."

She kissed his neck, his shoulder. Her hand was rubbing him tighter, faster, and he felt like every sensitive part of him had rushed down to his dick and was now exploding in sensations.

"I like it better when you touch me too," she said.

Just the notion that Becky had any point of comparison, that she would have to be touching herself too to know the difference, was enough to send him over the edge and before he could give her any warning he was spilling into her hand like an idiot. He groaned and closed his eyes, and Becky stroked him through the end of it.

"Fuck," he said. "Fuck, I’m so sorry, let me get like a tissue…"

Becky grabbed the tissue from his hand, cleaning herself up before him. Some of it was making a damp patch against his boxers and she patted it away as best as she could. She threw the tissue into his bin − another piece of evidence to hide − and cuddled against him.

"Becky, that… that was really nice."

She nodded. Her cheeks were a little bit pink, which always looked so pretty on her.

"You thought so?"

"It was amazing," he promised. "Thank you so much."

He felt like they had unlocked something, touching each other so, something so special he didn’t know anybody else in the world could understand. No one saw like he did the pretty blushing smiles Becky gave him when he was knuckles deep in her, just like no one had ever made him feel so taken care of, so wanted. Their relationship was the most special thing in the entire world.

Of course, there was the matter of privacy. Pulling the other to a secret nook to make out was something, but it better had been a really secret one for them to explore again the naughty beauty of each other’s bodies. His bedroom was a favorite, having to be silent when his parents were home, for sure scared to get caught but nothing like the movies or under the bleachers after practice on Mondays and Fridays in the short moments before Becky had to go home. In April, he would be 16, he would get a car and buy them some more time together if he was allowed to drive her around. Until then, they took whatever they could.

One night, it was announced that practice was canceled both for the team and the cheerleaders and that they could just all go home. Becky and him only had to take one glance at each other to get the same idea. Becky leading the way pulling him by the hand, they sneaked back into the gym hall. She took them right to the equipment room, hiding between gym stuff and huge heaps of mats.

"We are so in trouble if we get caught," he said.

He pulled her on top of a short gymnastics plinth to kiss her. Becky’s arms around him, legs parted to better fit him in between, he was in a little vice of bliss. He was holding her by the waist but Becky wrapped soft fingers around his wrist to suggest him the way.

"Better make it worth the risk, then."

She was wearing the insufferably hot cheerleader skirt that always distracted him so except this time, it was no longer a distraction but his only focus. Fingers riding up the inside of her thighs, brushing against the fabric of her underwear. He felt his heart beat stronger, better when he touched her, like he lived just a little bit more.

"Becky, I was thinking…"

He still was so clueless about how to touch her well, because Becky promised she liked everything he did to her, so he couldn’t tell when he was doing great and when he was doing decently. But he knew he loved nothing better than how she felt, warm and wet around his fingers, and how she looked at him then. He wanted that again and again, and more.

"Mmh?"

Pushing fabric to the side, a finger pressing into that paradise of snug softness.

"I wanted to, I mean, if that’s okay, instead of my fingers… I was thinking my mouth instead. If you wanna."

Becky gave to him the habit of rambling awkwardly when he wasn’t too sure of himself, but as she kept telling him that she found that cute, he forgave himself for it. She never made him repeat himself, either, understanding the messy tangle of his words and keeping the flow going as was. He loved that about her.

"Yes," she said eagerly. "I want that."

There was no hesitation on either part and Tom immediately sank to his knees in front of her. He beamed up at her and Becky combed fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. Teasing her with one finger, building up his own courage to just dive in.

"I like you so much, Beck," he said, feeling so at peace, almost quiet. "I wanna give you everything nice."

Her mouth half open expectantly, he was ever aware of her staring at him as his lips kissed a trail up her thighs. Bunching up the skirt around her waist, pulling her panties down her thighs to better see her, he could only marvel at what he uncovered. Everything was beautiful and pink and waiting for him. He swallowed thickly, slightly nervous, but gathered himself and kissed her there as best he could.

He was probably doing this all weird, completely unexperienced as he was, but he had all the enthusiasm in the world to make up for it. If this was a treat, that would be how he would enjoy it. His lips, his tongue, and his fingers as well, trying to get a feel of what Becky liked but he was so excited he could barely focus on anything but the new sensations. Becky’s hands were in his hair, tighter and tighter as he kissed this most precious part of her.

"Do you like it?" He asked and felt absurdly naughty for the wetness around his mouth, on his chin.

She smiled at him with so much more tenderness than Tom could ever deserve, traced the shape of his brow with her thumb. She nodded.

"Great," he said, relieved. "Cause me too."

He wanted to keep doing this, possibly forever, but he heard a distant noise and perked up.

"Tom?"

He pulled down her skirt, covering her up all proper again.

"I think there’s someone."

She paid closer attention. Voices talked in the other room. It was a sudden rush up to his feet, helping Becky off the plinth. She was the one who remembered the side door leading to the corridor without having to pass inside the gym hall. Hand in hand, they raced their way out of the building. Tom had never been so scared in his life, never so relieved to see the sky above his head, uncaught, unnoticed. Becky burst into laughter and, shit terrified as he still was, so did he.

"The hockey team," she said. "They practice inside on Mondays."

He held her close by the waist.

"Close call, huh?"

She smiled and pushed herself to her tippy toes to give him a quick kiss.

"We’ll finish this another time," she concluded and Tom, who had been loving every second what they had been doing, could only agree to end the night there and then.

Her birthday was coming up before his, end of February. Tom bought flowers, bought chocolate, some nice earrings he could afford with what little he was paid at his weekend job. He hid everything in his closet so that he could it to her the next day when she would hang out with him. His parents wouldn’t be there, a dinner out with friends. He still had the night to make everything nice, and then tomorrow she would be coming home with him after class and they’d spend the afternoon together, just the two of them.

Tom’s dad had a computer in his office, which was technically the family computer, only Tom preferred to play games on his TV in his room and rarely used it. It wasn’t forbidden, however, and his parents had never even given boundaries as to what exactly he was allowed to do with it. He waited until they went out to run a few errands, maybe an hour on his own.

He wanted Becky to have a good time. He wanted her to have a _really_ good time.

_how to eat out a girl_

The browser results were plenty and Tom had to comb through them. Past the porn, because he didn’t want that, past the spam, he found several blog posts, some charts and tips that looked legit. He printed some of them, praying to god that the printer wouldn’t jam, that it wouldn’t save anything to come up later to haunt him. The browser’s history cleared a dozen times just to be sure, all of the precious articles hidden under his sweater, the computer shut down and left alone, Tom ran back to his room and locked the door behind him.

He studied everything all night, the most important homework of his lifetime. Mom noted how distracted he was at dinner and he grumbled some excuse, school or something, a football game coming up. Back in his room, back to the much more important task of learning all the mysteries of the female anatomy. Tom had never so much as heard the world clitoris in his life before and yet here it came up over and over across all the posts he had printed. He frowned, ashamed to have been so clueless, and tried to compare the images with his own memories. It was a hard and long night.

"Oh, Tommy, this is so nice!"

Becky fawned over the presents he gave her the next day, smelling the peonies, putting on the earrings, eyeing the chocolate for later, too. She was beaming so bright she lit up the whole room with her joy and Tom was bathing in it. Her arms around his shoulders, she kissed him, still grinning.

"I love everything," she said. "Thank you so much!"

He couldn’t stop smiling. He loved making her happy, knowing that he was the source of her joy. They kissed. His hands were a little shaky at her waist, slightly nervous with anticipation and even in Becky’s gaze he thought he saw the same excitement, the same memory of their night interrupted.

"I’m a little bit cold," Becky said, a lie he had learned to see right through. "Can we cuddle in bed?"

"We can do anything," he replied. "Becky, it’s _your_ birthday."

Making out the instant their backs leaned against the pillows, of course, cupping her face, her soft cheeks, kissing her pretty lips till they were both hot pink. Becky was more adventurous, as ever. Her hands had been clutching his shoulders but soon he could feel her reaching down, unbuckling his belt. Fingers under the waistband, fingers around his dick, fingers distracting him, he groaned into the kiss. She had become so very good at that, all the secret times. She seemed never to tire of it.

He passed his hand over her thigh and Becky opened her legs slightly as an invite. Tom eagerly took it. What was it he had read hundreds of times yesterday, rereading the same dumb posts to burn them in his memory? Thumb flat against her clitoris through the fabric, rubbing nice slow circles. Becky’s eyes went a bit wider, a bit more magic to them.

"Tom…"

He kissed her, filled with a new confidence.

"Hey, Becky," he grinned.

She was squirming into his touch, the hand on his dick loose and forgotten. He pushed the fabric to the side to touch her flush and she gave him a moan, which made him prouder than he had ever been before.

"Are you still super cold?"

A finger pressing inside, trying to angle himself like he had read, his palm grinding against her clit. She was so hot, clamped around him like a little fire. He kissed her and brushed a tendril of her hair behind her ear, smiling in goofy satisfaction. The soft skin of her round cheek under his hand.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Yeah, you have to warm me up."

He had meant to be smooth about it, all suave and self-assured, but Becky had all the tricks to turn him into a pudgy mess and he forgot about the pretense to be a stronger, more confident Tom, falling back into his lame excited self.

"I wanna eat you out real good," he said, too loud, too eager.

Becky bit her lip, her eyes shining so bright. She touched his hair, his face, kissed him hard before pushing on his shoulders.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

They chuckled with an elated buzz and a little bit of nerve as Tom tore the blankets from her. With her permission, he tugged her panties all the way off and his guts twisted a little at the sight of Becky half naked in his bed. He gulped with sudden doubt, but he was resolved to see this through without fear. Lying down on the bed his face between her legs, a sharp breath in to give himself courage. She smelled super good, though he didn’t know if that would be weird to note out loud.

"I’m doing it," he said. "I’ll do it right now."

One finger in, he couldn’t stop staring at the sight of it pressing in, the snug grip of her around him. She was so pretty everywhere. How did she do that? His mouth around her clit, slow circles of his tongue, a second finger as he felt her get looser.

"Tom, that feels so good," Becky muttered.

He looked up at her. How special, how intimate to be gazing into her eyes while he was doing this for her. He smiled and tried to make an enticing show of tracing her clit with the tip of his tongue, tried to be sexy and fun for her. Becky huffed and latched one hand in his hair.

"You like it?"

"Uh huh."

A kiss against the inside of her thigh, another against the patch of ginger hair, and then back to the pleasure he was giving her.

"Cool," he muttered hotly against her. "Happy birthday, babe."

Of course, that was just an excuse, of course, he would keep doing it on any other non-birthday. He realized this was the first time he had used a petname on her and found himself liking the sound of it. She was his baby, his sweetheart, everything nice and cute. From the way she clung to him, he thought, she seemed to approve of it, though that might just as well have been just the kisses of him she was enjoying.

Knowing the general shape of what he was doing was only the start of it, he realized. The real trial by fire was putting it all to the test, observing Becky's reactions to this and that, adjusting his touch to her desire. That was also the fun of it. He felt close to her in a way he never quite had before and found himself wondering if this was also how Becky felt when she touched him. He'd have to ask.

"You're so good, Becky," he told her in a low voice. "You're perfect."

"No, _you’re_ so good," she said.

He didn’t think this kind of things could be faked, could it? Becky was courteous, but not to the point of lying to him about anything that mattered. Her breath now panting, her heels digging into his back and hands in his hair, how her body writhed with the flicks of his tongue, he thought he knew her well enough to know she was in the moment with him.

When she came, he knew it for sure, everything so real and vivid and intense. He also sheepishly came to realize that this was for sure his first time making her do so, because there was no way he could have ever missed this earlier. Clamping hard around his fingers, pleasure pulsing from her like the strongest of heartbeats, a whimper like nothing he’d ever heard. Her fingers gripped his hair hard, pulling a little, and Tom felt like the champion of the entire world. Her body flopped back onto the bed numbly and she sighed out loudly.

"Jesus," she muttered. "Tom, I…"

She could never finish what she was saying, the words lost into another contented sigh. She held up her arms for him to cuddle her and he was all too happy to obey.

"Thanks, babe," she said eventually.

A happy birthday indeed.

Tom tried to be subtle about his request in the locker room later that week, he really did. The seniors were in the shower and thought himself safe in approaching one of his teammates he got on with best, a junior, whispering so he wouldn’t be heard.

"Hey, Rob, erm…"

"Yeah?" Rob replied at normal conversation volume, which made Tom wince internally but he was engaged into this by now and didn’t think he could just walk away.

"I’m only wondering if maybe you knew, erm… if you have an idea where one can buy…" He didn’t dare, but he had to. He whispered the next word as low as he could. "… condoms."

Rob smirked but before he could reply, another voice shouted.

"GUYS, HOUSTON WANTS TO FUCK REBECCA BARNES."

Tom was certain his face was now a burning furnace of shame and he clenched his fists furiously, swirling around to protest.

"Shut the fuck up," he grunted. "I’m just… I’m just asking."

But the older guys had all heard Sam and were cornering him, slapping his back and mussing his hair enthusiastically.

"You’ll be a man soon, little dude!"

"I _knew_ she was gonna beg to hop on that dick of yours one day or another! You’re totally hung, man."

"Bro, I thought you were totally porking that already!"

He might have died on the spot, right then and there, and crashed backwards onto the bench, his face in his hands.

"Don’t talk about her like that," he replied, muffled. "That’s not okay."

"Yeah, yeah…"

He waited till they were gone to look up. The locker room had emptied but Rob was still there. He patted Tom’s shoulder.

"They just sell them at Walmart, dude," he said simply. "Or like drugstores, doctor’s office, whatever, it’s really easy. You don’t need an ID, just cash."

He smirked again.

"Have fun with Barnes, then," he said. "See you next week."

Tom took a moment to breathe and calm himself from the embarrassment, but it all came back in a rush when he came out to Becky waiting for him as usual. She was frowning.

"What’s happening there?" She asked, taking his hand in hers. "All the guys looked at me like…" She shook her head. "I dunno."

They were going back to the field, empty after practice, night already falling to hide their naughty deeds, the safe darkness of under the bleachers, but Tom had lost his mood for the present.

"Nothing," he said in a hurry. "Nothing at all, nope."

She gave him a funny look, like she could guess he wasn’t saying the whole truth, but she didn’t press him for it and he was glad for that. They didn’t say a word during the walk back but her hand squeezed his softly and he smiled at her to soothe her worry.

He dropped to the ground, pulling her to his lap to kiss her. For once, he found himself content with just that. His stomach was still in twists after the locker room and he found comfort at her lips, in her arms. Becky, ever clever and perceiving, sensed his mood and didn’t initiate anything else. She smelled nice, something flowery from her shower, damp hair against his cheeks. She was always a relief, a solace.

He didn’t ’want to fuck her’, not like Sam made it sound, at least. The way things had been progressing, he thought it was the route they would be heading towards but he didn’t think of it as something he would be doing _to_ her, inflicting _on_ her. He thought it was something that one day they might share, do together. He was waiting for a sign that the time had come, that things were about to change, and he had thought that the wise and responsible thing would be to be prepared for the occasion if ever such a sign came to them. He liked her so very much. He liked her whether she was half naked in his bed or fully dressed smiling at him across the classroom.

He did buy the condoms just in case and the guys had some more crude remarks to throw at him the next week, assuming wrongly that the deed had been done. Tom brushed them off. He didn’t care about them one bit anyways. Becky was all that mattered. He never told her about any of it and was relieved to find that none of his teammates bothered her with it either. Just letting her know, he thought, might put a pressure on her he did not want, if she thought he was expecting anything from her.

Becky had more than enough initiative without him needing to take the lead, anyways. For his birthday, his friends took him for a day at the lake. It was too early in the year for swimming but they lit a fire and had some hot dogs. One of the guys had brought a guitar and Tom felt very relaxed, cuddling Becky in his arms in front of him, his face comfortably pressed in her hair, enjoying the conversations around him. He would be getting a car soon, his uncle giving him a bargain on an old battered pickup truck, which was just about all Tom could hope to afford. Becky’s parents had promised he could drive her to school and he had been looking forward to those few minutes extra every day.

The hours plucked from him one by one, the quiet contentment of spending the day with his friends, till at the end of the afternoon they started to make their goodbyes and thanks for the nice time spent together, renewing their birthday wishes. Tom knew he had to stay last, clean up a little around here because he didn’t think anybody else would if he didn’t, and his parents had told him to call them when he and Becky needed to be picked up. He had given her his jacket and though they had not said a word a long time, this was one of the nicest moments he had ever spent with her, hours of holding her close, bathing in her gentle presence. When finally they were finally all alone, she leaned her head back on his shoulder to look up at him and smiled.

"Hey."

He kissed the tip of her nose, which made her chuckle.

"You want your birthday present, Tommy?"

He quirked an eyebrow. She had given him CDs and a PlayStation game, but if he had any idea, he didn’t think she meant another gift he’d put in his backpack and take home. He stroked her arms, taking her hands in his.

"I might," he said with a smirk.

She was on her feet before he could register, pulling him up with her and she set them on a race towards a more discreet little nook. There were some woods along the beach of the lake and she found a spot between the trees and bushes where she thought no one would see them. With a wicked grin, she gestured Tom to a large boulder.

"Sit," she said, "Please."

Tom all too happily obeyed. He gave Becky a smile. The sun was slowly starting to set, fading reddish light hueing her hair even lovelier than usual.

"Let me just…"

She arranged his jacket on the ground in front of him and knelt there, and though Tom had been guessing this had been what she’d meant, the sight of it was no less stunning and he gulped. Hands on his knees, thumbs pressing gentle circles.

"I’ve been wanting to do this," she whispered as if ashamed to admit it, "But I was afraid we’d get caught at your place or at school. If someone was around."

He played with a tendril of bright red hair, like a magic veil around his finger.

"There’s nobody around now," he said and wondered how his voice had gotten so nervous.

She nodded. Pushing up his sweater, the belt unbuckled, button undone, her hand slid in his boxers to wrap around him, the warmth clashing with the chilly evening air out in nature. Familiar mixing with the unknown.

"It’s only you and me," she said.

He was getting hard − always, when she touched him, naturally. She opened his jeans a little better, made herself more comfortable on the ground and he spread his legs for better access. He covered her hand on his lap with his. She stared right into his eyes, but Tom could look at nothing else than her lips, mouth getting ever closer to his dick and he groaned when she pressed a first kiss.

"Ah, _fuck_."

She smiled, obviously enjoying the reaction, her hand pumping him even harder. Another kiss, then her tongue on him, never something Tom had had done to him. He could not look away, staring in fascination at the sight of her lips on him, something he would have to think about forever. She tried to take him in her mouth but managed no farther than the tip. Frustrated, she switched back to her hand but he didn’t like the frown on her face. He touched her cheek. Soft, soft skin he never stopped marveling about. He smiled at her.

"This is really nice," he said. "I love it."

A trickle of open-mouthed kisses down the length of him shut him up again and he dropped her cheek to clench the rock under him instead to steady himself. The accidental touch of teeth made him grunt despite himself but she apologized with a kiss and was more meticulous. There was somewhat of a rare stiffness to her, very focused, and though he wished she would relax a little, he didn’t want to tell her what to do, so he was content to sit back and enjoy the delicious present she was giving him so freely.

"Really?" She asked.

Her hand was spreading wetness, an embrace so familiar yet always thrilling, always leaving his heart in a racing frenzy. She took him in her mouth again and took him a little deeper than the first time.

"I mean, yeah," he said. "Did you expect me not to like it?"

She let out a nervous chuckle.

"No, no, just…" She sighed. Her hand was twisting around the head of his dick so temptingly and he wondered if she realized that. "Promise you won’t make fun?"

"N-Never…"

Her tongue tracing around him, exploring, both of them getting used to new sensations.

"I asked some of the girls how to… I mean, how to do it. Who’ve done it before."

That surprised him, probably because he never imagined Becky as the kind of person who really asked for help with anything. He wondered if he should try avoiding her friends from now on, but that was probably silly thought, because he had noticed no difference in the way they treated him without knowing what they knew. All the other kids were doing it anyways, probably. If his teammates were to be believed.

"Nothing wrong with a bit of help."

Suddenly her eyes widened.

"Wait, did you ask too?!"

He wanted to laugh. Of all the conversations between seniors in the locker room, eating out a girl had not exactly been the prime item of discussions. He didn’t remember it being mentioned that much at all. But he stroked Becky’s hair gently and shook his head.

"Not really."

She seemed relieved. Kisses against him, tongue on him, everything her mouth did was nice and perfect. Her forearms were leaning against his knees and she was sitting more comfortably.

"Well I don’t think I’m doing it like they said I should…"

"Are you kidding?!" He cried out and realized how loud the outburst. "No, Becky, you’re so good. You’re… I love it."

He had soothed her fears, he thought. She was bolder with every moment, and Tom weaker and weaker. The feel of her mouth around him overwhelmed him, like a wank in the shower except a million times better, because it came from her. He was looking down into her beautiful eyes as she gave the best of herself to please him and told himself he was the luckiest guy in the world.

He gave her a warning before he came, which Becky did not heed and she was taken by surprise but swallowed it down with some difficulty. She was grinning when she rubbed her mouth clean with the cuff of her sweater.

"So how’s that for a birthday, Mr Houston?"

He laughed softly. His cheeks still felt very warm, all the more when Becky tucked him neatly back into his boxers and buckled him up again. He scooted back for her to sit on his lap for kisses.

"Are we gonna make that a birthday tradition now, or what?"

She gave him a naughty look and bit her lip.

"I was thinking waiting a little less than next year, babe."

Of course, they didn’t wait that long. Ever more, their lives became entwined with one another. Together every free moment given to them, and sneaking around when they were supposed to be elsewhere, too. The safety of his car became a staple in their secrecy, minutes caught here and there before she inevitably had to get back home. They were ever closer, more enamored with each other.

He thought he loved her, though he didn't know how or when to say it. He loved every moment with her, the feel of her hand in his, holding her in his arms. He loved talking with her, what a tease she could be, how compassionate and patient with the poor idiot he was. He loved playing when she was cheering for him. That was, he supposed, the true purpose of the cheerleading team, to make the players feel like the hottest, strongest guys in the world. It certainly had that effect on him. He always played twice as good when he knew she was chanting for him with the girls.

He won Hatchetfield the last match of the season. The guys piled on him in a mountain of hugs and cheers and the coach patted his shoulder ecstatically, already talking about next season and big plans and scholarships, but it was Becky Tom rushed to as soon as he was free, pulling her in his arms and swirling her around. They kissed and he felt like the entire world was cheering for them.

"You won!" She said and kissed him and held him. "You’re the best!"

The coach took them all out for pizza but Tom and Becky could hardly eat a bite. He didn’t remember ever feeling so elated. There had been talks of making him quarterback next year when Sam would be graduating and he couldn’t be more proud of himself but, most importantly, neither could Becky. She hadn’t stopped staring at him lovingly, kept clutching and touching him, smiling at each other, lost in dreams. The others made a bunch of jokes at their expanse, telling them to get a room. Tom had no energy to waste on telling them to shut up − maybe because he wanted nothing more than to do just that.

Finally they were out on their own after many slaps on the back of renewed congratulations, and Tom pulled Becky to him. He kissed her and kissed her again and though they didn’t say a word, he thought he could sense in the way she held onto him, how she was arching herself in his body, that the moment had come for them. He had not been sure either of them were ready before, had not known what signs to expect to tell them when they would be, but he knew now. He kissed her, held her, and by the way she kissed and held him, he knew the day would not end without them making the most of it.

"My parents aren’t home," he said and that was just enough so spark a flame.

Kissing as soon as the door was closed behind them, kissing up the stairs, Becky’s hands riding up under his jersey, kissing on the bed and pressing her into the mattress, kissing her neck, pushing up her shirt and kissing the soft, soft skin of her belly. Done with her skirt, done with the panties, kissing heaven between her legs.

" _Tom_ ," she moaned.

She took off her shirt, her pretty socks, and he realized this was the first time he had seen her entirely naked. The best player in the world, alright. Cupping a breast with a hand for his pleasure, the other between her legs for hers, he thought no victory had ever gotten anyone a sweeter reward. Becky squirmed and whimpered and sighed for him and he had never felt so confident, so strong. Becky too was bolder, taking the caresses like she knew how well she deserved them, her hand covering his on her breast, pushing her hips into his mouth.

"You’re so good, Tom," she said in a seductive voice that drove him insane and he reached down to free his dick from his pants to bring himself some relief. "You’re the best."

She came so beautiful, so splendidly Tom felt like a winner all over again. Back to kissing her, soft and loose under him, how she made room for him between her legs and grabbed his dick to stroke him with a new focus.

"I have condoms in my bag," she said softly.

She had the merit of always surprising him in the best of ways. Tom could only stare in disbelief.

"You do?!"

She smiled up at him and he told himself for the millionth time there was no smile prettier, brighter. She poked his cheek playfully.

"I’m your girlfriend," she retorted. "It’s not weird."

He felt so comfortable, so hot, Becky’s flushed face under him and he couldn’t help another kiss. They had never kissed before while also both naked under the waist and he now knew why. The temptation was insufferable. He loved the feel of her hand around him but, having felt just how warm and wet she was underneath, he was craving to be inside her like never before.

"No, no, it’s just that, erm, I do too."

Her eyes softened and she leaned up to kiss him. Her hand dropped him and she pushed lightly on his shoulders.

"Well, it’s the same to me which ones you use," she said, "but please…"

Tom reached towards the closest bag, which was hers, and he wondered if that had been on purpose. Tearing the condom wrapper so hastily he nearly let it slip from his fingers, but much less nimble at actually putting it on. It was however managed under Becky’s mesmerized stare and she opened her legs to him, begging for his embrace. Tom allowed himself one deep breath.

He pushed in faster than he had thought, slick from the attentions he had paid her. Becky winced and he stopped where he was. He touched her face.

"You okay?"

She waited a bit, staring up at him. Her hand covered his against her cheek and she nodded.

"Yeah, I’m just… getting used to."

"Did you wanna stop or… ?"

But she smirked.

"Don’t you dare." She bit her lip more nervously. "But don’t go too fast, please."

He kissed her softly, trying for himself to find some balance between the need to be gentle for her sake and her comfort and the pleasure burning him like hell itself. Even wrapped in a condom, he felt how warm, how snug she was around him, and then there was the feeling of her arms around him gripping his back, of her legs making room for him, the soft shape of her under him. He kissed her till she thawed back to excitement.

A first thrust in and out, something he had thought about so many times, obsessed himself with, yet nothing like what he had thought.

"See, it does fit," he said with a dumb goofy grin.

Becky gently slapped his shoulder.

"Oh, hush," she retorted with fondness. "It’s not my fault you’re big."

He felt ridiculously proud and embarrassed by the compliment and, finding nothing to retort, remained silent. He had too much distracting him anyways. Every aspect of this moment was making its way into his forever memory, the look of adoration in her eyes, the feel of her arms clutching his, the deep blush of her cheeks, how their bodies embraced one another so perfect and, more crude, of course the tight warmth around his dick, the bounce of her breasts, but more than anything just how much he loved her.

It lasted all of three minutes and a half, not that Tom anxiously noticed, but he was unable to stop himself. He fell in a heap on top of her and Becky huffed and held him there. She kissed his hair, which made him smile into her neck and lean up to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed so red, her whole face a pretty picture of heat framed by fiery hair. He kissed her. His heart had been racing at impossible speeds and the sight of her smiling up at him was doing nothing to soothe it down. She touched his face.

"I love you, Tom," she said softly.

"I-I love you too," he hurried, stumbling on the words he had thought a thousand times without daring to let them out. "I love you so much."

They smiled at each other. He was feeling so warm and comfortable. Maybe they didn't need to ever leave this bed again. Loving each other was enough for the rest of their lives. Becky twirled a curl of his hair around her finger, pulled on it playfully.

"We need to do this again."

Tom nodded. He didn’t think he wanted to do anything else ever again. Football, video games, books, movies, nothing could ever compare. Becky gave him a naughty smile and reached out as far as the embrace allowed her. Her fingers narrowly caught the condom box and she handed another to him.

"Oh, you mean like right now ?"

"Uh huh."

He had not even yet cleaned up the messy results of the first time but at once his dick twitched in interest.

"I’ll be right back!"

A quick escape to the bathroom, he realized he had no idea how to dispose of the condom, hide all evidence from his family. He’d have to empty the bin before his parents came home, take out the trash and hope they didn’t make the connection between that and a few hours home alone with Becky. He cleaned himself up, washed up his burning hot face to try and get some of his cool back, to no avail.

"You okay, Tommy?"

Dumb and horny, his dick was already getting hard again at the thought of Becky waiting for him in bed.

"Yeah! Yeah, I’m just… I’m okay."

Some more cold water on his face, his hair getting wet with it, and Tom breathed out soundly before getting back to her. The way she was sitting on his bed, naked as the day she was born, all softness and pretty curves, the way she held out her arms for him to find his place in them again. Her hand around his dick pumped him rock hard again. Where was the time to rest, to let it recuperate? But they had no time to lose, not a minute if they wanted each other again as long as they were just on their own.

"Show me how to put it on," she told him, tearing open the condom wrapper.

Tom was no expert, but he showed her what he knew and just about lost all his means when her nice soft fingers wrapped him all up, ready for him to make love to her again. She gave him a smile and gently pushed on his shoulders for him to lie back. Love was made, alright. It was made and said and promised and showed more times than they could count, and still it wasn’t enough. It never would be.

He drove Becky home eventually, almost curfew. They exchanged a million goodbyes, promises to do this again as soon as they possibly could. Back home, he erased all traces of the naughty deed from his room, bins emptied, trash taken out, sheets changed, but the memories clung to him all the same. Becky had texted him.

_I love you so much Tom_

He wondered if it might be pushing it to print a text message and plaster it on all the walls of his room.

_I love you and I miss you_

The reply was instantaneous.

_I wanna be with you forever_

Tom sighed out a big breath, grinning at the ceiling. Forever sounded just about right.


End file.
